


Ink Still Sharply Black

by ChipOfftheOldSoul



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Destroying horcruses, Horcruxes, Marauders' Era, Regulus grew up, Regulus' Locket, failure - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 19:04:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5939770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChipOfftheOldSoul/pseuds/ChipOfftheOldSoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regulus was the good son, the one who did the Right Thing. Until he realized he had done it all wrong and now he has to pay for his errors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink Still Sharply Black

I always found it more entertaining than I should have, the way students’ scribbling speed accelerated as the sand in the top of my half-hour glass dropped. I certainly hadn’t found it half so funny just a few years ago when I was in their seats. I wandered up and down the rows, inwardly amused at the nervous glances they all gave me as I passed.

“Time’s up,” I called when the last grain fell. “Quills away.” With a flick of my wand, forty essays on the theories of Legilimency and Occlumency flew towards me and stacked themselves neatly on my desk.

“Professor French, just another minute, please,” Pettigrew whined, still holding on to his wiggling parchment like a little kid trying to control a kite. With a flick of my wand, he released the struggling parchment in order to cover the small welt that blossomed on his chubby wrist. The mark would be gone in just a moment.

“Time is up, Pettigrew,” I reiterated as his scribbled and now slightly crumpled essay settled on top of the waiting pile.

“Oi!”

“You can’t do that!” James Potter and Sirius Black’s chairs were shoved backward roughly as the two stood quickly. They were always there to defend their little friend. Black had his wand gripped with white knuckles and only Remus Lupin held him back from hexing me. Those four boys were the closest group of friends I had ever seen; troublemakers the lot of them. When I had graduated four years ago, they had just been third years and their pranks had been little more than troublesome. Now, they were seventh years and had more than enough skill to cause real harm if they wanted to. They rarely did, especially when Potter’s girlfriend was around, however, it wasn’t uncommon for a Slytherin to end up in the Hospital Wing thanks to the Marauders. The Marauders. I have no idea how they came up with the name, but it stuck and the four were known school-wide by that name.

“Five points for arguing, Potter, and ten points for pointing your wand at me, Black. Put your wand away unless you want detention, too,” I added when the boy strained against his faded friend’s hold. I turned away from their glares and addressed the class as a whole, “Read pages 345-362 in preparation for next week’s lessons. Class dismissed.”

A murmur of approval tripped through the class at being released fifteen minutes early, and they left, comparing notes from the surprise essay I had set, proposing snowball fights out in the still falling snow and chattering to one another about their upcoming holiday plans. The lot of Gryffindors were glaring at me for taking their house points and I fixed each of them with pointed stares until they all scurried away. Except for the Marauders. Lily Evans, Potter’s girlfriend, was tugging at his sleeve while all four of the boys stood together muttering, vengeful expressions glinting in their eyes when they looked my way. I ignored them, hoping they would leave of their own accord, but they were still there five minutes later and I suppressed a huff of irritation. “Would you all like extra homework, then?” I asked, refusing to look up from the essays I had started grading. Pettigrew had done as badly as I expected. “I’m sure I could think of something and Pettigrew could certainly use some more work with Occlumency and Legilimency.”

Both Potter and Black opened their mouths, each obviously prepared with retorts, and only Evans’ speed saved them from themselves. “No, ma’am,” she said. I kept my face turned away so they wouldn’t see my smirk.

“Lily,” Potter complained. “She—”

“It’s fine, James. Let’s go before she does something worse,” Peter Pettigrew begged his friend. There were only another couple mutters before the last five students left, leaving me in blissful quiet. I sighed in pleasure before looking up to find that I was mistaken; not all five students had left. Remus Lupin still stood in the doorway, staring at me with uncharacteristically hard eyes.

When I was hired to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at the beginning of the year, I had been informed that Remus Lupin was a werewolf and had been since he was a small child. I had been shocked, not that Dumbledore had allowed a werewolf to attend school—it was such a Dumbledore thing to do—but because of the identity of the werewolf.

Out of every student in this school, especially out of the Marauders, Lupin was one of the lowest on my list of suspected vicious animals. Compared to his vibrant friends, he looked almost bland. He was quiet, he was obedient, he was respectful and that was on a bad day. I had known for four months that he was a werewolf, but this was the first time I had seen any sort of ferocity in him.

“Can I help you, Lupin?” I snipped, trying to cover my alarm, but he must have sensed it anyways because I saw the corners of his mouth twitch upward in an uncharacteristically vindictive way.

“You should not bully your students, Miss French,” he said quietly. Lupin’s voice was always soft as if he were too worn out to speak with any significant volume. But this quiet was different. It was the type of quiet that came of a controlled, barely reigned in temper. My skin prickled and the fine hairs along my arms stood on end. His gaze was that of a predator and I had to force myself not to draw my wand on him.

“You are dismissed, Mr. Lupin,” I said. Without further comment, he inclined his head in a mocking parody of a bow, then turned on his heel and went after his friends. My breath shuddered out of me, trembling unnervingly. Lupin hadn’t threatened me outright, but there was a warning in his tone and eyes, one that I actually believed he would follow through on. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on calming my heartrate.

“Are you alright, Professor?” My eyes slammed open and I raised my wand towards the boy in the doorway. It wasn’t Lupin nor any of his friends and I lowered my wand in relief.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I’m fine, Mr. Black.” The two Black brothers were different as could be, or at least they wanted to be. Sirius Black, the older of the two, was a rebel fighting against his family name and everything it stood for. Regulus Black was only one year younger and followed the family traditions the way any good, pureblooded Slytherin should. Where Sirius was reckless, Regulus was refined. Where Sirius was constantly causing trouble for students and teachers alike, Regulus was far more likely to offer help. Where Sirius danced about like fire, Regulus maintained his place in the shadows. Regulus had only been a second year when I graduated and I didn’t remember much about him besides his Sorting.

After Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor the year before, everyone was on alert, watching the second of the Black heirs as he perched himself on the rickety stool and slipped the Hat down past his eyes. Sirius had been sorted within seconds, but Regulus sat for a full five minutes without anyone saying a word. When the Hat had finally shouted, “SLYTHERIN!” the Great Hall had been divided. My table had erupted in cheers as Regulus came to join us while the other side of the hall sagged with disappointment. I remember seeing James Potter pat his friend’s shoulder consolingly.

“What’s my brother gone and done now?” Regulus asked. He took his usual seat in the front row, just to the left of the center aisle and looked towards me with an exasperated smile on his face.

“I thought he wasn’t your brother anymore,” I said, ignoring his question. I had seen the news of Sirius’ disownment in the Daily Prophet where some journalist invented a list of possible reasons for the rift, each of them wilder than the truth, I was sure. Regulus’ mouth twisted into a grim smile that seemed be held together with layers of victory, amusement, guilt and sorrow.

“Perhaps not,” he said, that splintered smile still plastered on his face. “But the blood and surname are, unfortunately, still the same. You changed the subject though,” he added and his voice changed to something more teasing and his broken smile faded into a smirk. “What did he do?” Regulus was exceedingly insightful, always noticing things no one wanted found, and I wasn’t surprised that he was poking around in my business. I wasn’t especially offended either. Regulus wasn’t cruel like most his friends were, nor was he obnoxiously flamboyant like his brother and the other Marauders.

“He didn’t do anything,” I said truthfully. “The Marauders were offended that I wouldn’t coddle their pet, Pettigrew.”

“That boy is useless,” Regulus said and I couldn’t help my chuckle of agreement.

“As a professor, I couldn’t possibly say such a thing about one of my students,” I replied primly, a smile stretched across my face.

“Of course not,” he agreed, “but I’m certain you think it every day.”

That was true enough, but I knew that Dumbledore and Minerva wouldn’t hesitate to sack me on the spot if they heard that I was badmouthing one of their precious Gryffindors and I had already pushed my luck far enough with that light stinging jinx. Still, my lips curled into a secret smile only Regulus saw before I turned away. The bell rang, bringing the rest of the class in and Regulus turned away from me and towards his friends who took their seats around him. “Settle down,” I called over the sixth years’ chatter. “Open your books to chapter thirteen. Today we’ll be discussing shield charms.”

* * *

 

“Why exactly were you dueling them?”

Regulus looked up from the lines I had set him—I will not duel in the corridors where I can accidently hit innocent bystanders. His eyes were more guarded than they had been only a few months before.

“Sirius was upset with me,” Regulus said blandly before looking down and starting a new line.

My glare hardened. The Black brothers had been upset with one another since the beginning of time. Today’s duel was because of something a bit stronger than ‘upset’ and I wanted to know what. Regulus’ wayward spell had caused a second year break out with boils full of an oozing purple-black acid. What kind of person taught a sixteen year old boy that kind of curse anyway?

“And why was Sirius mad at you?” I asked, making my tone condescending, as if I were speaking to a particularly stupid child, because I knew it would get more of a rise out of him than anything else could. The quill in his hand snapped, but he didn’t seem to notice as he scowled up at me. It was the first time that I had ever considered that the boy could look ugly, but as he wordlessly threatened me not to push, I knew that expression could warp his handsome face into something repulsive if he left it there long enough. Had that expression been on his brother’s face, I probably would have retracted my inquiry, but over the last six months I had come to care about Regulus. We had formed a friendship based on similar wit and a respect for one another’s talents and intelligence. Teachers aren’t supposed to have favorites, but he was one of mine.  
“Regulus.”

“He doesn’t approve of my friends.” It was a simple phrase, a common family strife, but I knew how deep it could cut; my own parents had rejected me when I chose magic over muggles. However, I also knew the difference between me and Regulus, a difference I had been steadfastly ignoring for as long as I had known him. Regulus Black had a certain proclivity for the Dark Arts.

Everyone knew that certain students, particularly those from my house, were being recruited for Lord Voldemort’s party of followers, the Death Eaters. However, professors were as lost as everyone else when it came to dealing with the problem. We simply…let it happen, I suppose. We weren’t supporting them, of course we weren’t encouraging them, but how do you stop a determined teen when he has an army of bloodthirsty wizards at his back? All we could do was to try to reign them in and help them see that there were better paths available. But power and comradery is such an enticing option. An option I had suspected my favorite student had taken. Now I knew for certain.

He noticed my eyes unconsciously drifting towards his left forearm and looked up at me with all the defiance of a true heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. “Can I see?” I meant my voice to be neutral and flat, but it came out weak and dripping with something stronger than disappointment.

“What? So you can run away to tell Dumbledore?” he sneered. I shook my head.

“I’m certain Dumbledore already knows. But I...I want to see it.” Those words were the furthest thing from the truth. I didn’t want to see it at all. I wanted him to pull back his sleeve to reveal the pale, unmarked skin of aristocracy.

Instead, as he drew back the fabric, I was faced with a grinning skull spitting out a viper printed clearly on his wrist, the ink still sharply Black. I visibly flinched back, as if the image alone could harm me. “We’re going to be strong,” he said. “Muggles and Mudbloods will cower in their rightful places and we will rule. Don’t you want that? Don’t we deserve that?”

“They are people, Regulus, not animals for you to dominate.” I was still staring at the skull; its eyes were hypnotic and drew me closer. Reaching out, not touching the tattoo, I held his wrist tilting it back and forth, as if in the right light, it would disappear.

“But,” he was looking at me oddly, a sick expression on his face as he pulled his wrist from my grasp. “But you’re a Slytherin. You should understand. You should be proud!”

I snorted and resisted the urge to pace or pull my hair in my frustration. “Proud that you want to commit genocide, Regulus? This is a mistake!”

His face contorted into a sneer. “No, you’re making a mistake. You’re a fool, defending them like that. It’s like you’re one of them!” I froze. His words were too close to my dirty little secret and I felt panic surge. And of course, he saw too much. “You’re…? You can’t be a…” His gray eyes widened and his mouth formed the word, not making a sound. It was only then that I realized what I had unintentionally admitted to being. A Mudblood.

There was no greater crime nor insult in the Slytherin common room and I had learned very quickly to hide my heritage. All that the other students knew about me was that I was poor and lived in an orphanage over the holidays. That was all they needed to know and it had kept me safe from malicious intent for my seven years of school. I had kept my head down and graduated with high marks, thinking myself safe.

I was such an idiot.

Before I could take back my words or defend myself, he stood, his chair crashing backwards as he tripped into it, and ran, dodging the other desks as if a wild animal was at his heel. The door slammed behind him.

I stood there, not moving for a long moment before closing my eyes in defeat. This mistake of mine would have deep ramifications. With who he was now and who his ‘friends’ were, I could be dead by morning. Woodenly, I moved around the desk towards the fallen chair, but my toe caught on the leg of the table and I fell to the stone floor. It was icy down there, the uninsulated castle frozen with the late winter cold, but I was trying to decide if it was worth getting up if my murder was imminent when a disembodied hand appeared in front of me, shocking me from my self-pity.

“Come on, up you get,” a disembodied voice said. I wondered vacantly if this was some oddly comical Death Eater curse for killing off Mudbloods. “Come on,” the curse was impatient to kill me, apparently. I still didn’t take the floating hand which held itself towards me like an offering of assistance. I thought that was rather cruel. Finally, with a huff of frustration, it drew back slightly then lifted and I scuttled backwards, bumping into the leg of the desk and cracking my head on the corner of the tabletop. “Careful there!”

The hand made an odd motion and a disembodied head joined my evening of shocks. But I recognized this head

“L-Lupin?” I hated that once again, I couldn’t control my own voice. Instead of being strong or even just blank, I sounded like the next surprise might break me to pieces. I wondered if they already had and this was just a figment of my shattered imagination.

“Yup,” the rest of his body appeared and he hastily bunched up a wad of fabric under his arm, once again extending his hand to me. Invisibility cloak, I decided, as my trembling hand was encased in his reassuringly strong grip. “Come on. We need to get you to Dumbledore.” Still tugging me by the hand, he led me into the corridor. He was muttering to himself quietly, “Should we stop and get the lads? They’re on the way…just a short detour…” He tugged me off down a different corridor and I followed willingly with no idea what was going on.

“What are you doing, Lupin?” I demanded, proud that my voice was mostly obeying me again. “What were you doing in my classroom?” He pushed a tapestry to the side and pulled me down a passage I hadn’t known existed. “Lupin!”

“We had to keep an eye on Regulus,” he said, not looking back at me. His legs were longer than mine and I had to run to keep up. I wondered if I stopped, if he would have continued to drag me along by my wrist. “Since I was the only one who didn’t have detention tonight…” He finally stopped and looked back at me, a pointedly disapproving expression lining his face, before pushing open another door that I had never seen before and leading me into the corridor directly outside Minerva’s office.

“You know perfectly well that they were dueling, Lupin,” I told him coldly, yanking my wrist from his grip. “And don’t look at me like that. I’m the teacher, not you.” He didn’t react to my words and instead pushed the office door open without knocking. The occupants were already looking towards us, as if they had been expecting us. Potter, Black and Pettigrew sat at a desk together, parchments in front of them, obviously slacking on the lines they had been set. Minerva was nowhere to be seen.

“You can’t really blame him,” Black said, having obviously heard my comment. “Moony always has been rather professorly, even when he was just a firsty.” His words were light and teasing, but there were lines of stress evident around his eyes and mouth. Potter and Pettigrew looked similarly concerned, Pettigrew’s face scrunched up like he had eaten too many Acid Pops.

“What happened?” Potter asked Lupin. “Where’s Regulus?”

“Ran off,” Lupin shook his head.

“Did you see it?” Pettigrew asked, his voice trembling. Lupin didn’t say a word, but his shoulders slumped in defeat and that was all the answer they needed. The Marauders were always loud and obnoxious in public, to the point that it was off-putting, but in this moment, they were anything but. Sirius went stiff, his chin dropped to his chest, his hands turned to fists on the desktop and he trembled like a potion gone wrong, on the verge of combusting. Despite the dangerous aura around the boy, James put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and pulled him into a tight hug. Remus walked close to them, sitting himself on the desktop and put his hand in Sirius’s hair, carding his fingers through the strands in a soothing motion. “I’m sorry, Padfoot,” Pettigrew said softly.

Sirius took several shuddering breaths before he reacted at all. “I already knew,” he muttered. “I knew.” He paused then shook his head like a dog trying to rid itself of a bothersome flea. Leaning away from his friends’ comforting gestures, he looked at me and I pretended I couldn’t see the tears in his eyes. “Why is she here?” His voice was flat.

Lupin looked at me like he had forgotten I was there, despite the fact that he had been the one to drag me the whole way. “Regulus was in detention with her.” He paused, an odd look on his face and I realized for the first time that he must have heard everything. I ducked my head in embarrassment.

“What?” Potter looked between me and Lupin in confusion. “What happened?”

“She…” Lupin shook his head in exasperation. “She got him to show her the Mark, then when and told him that she’s muggleborn.” Three pairs of eyes slammed onto me.

“Are you stupid?”

“He wouldn’t show me!”

“But you were a Slytherin.”

“I did not tell him!” I argued, my face red. “He’s annoyingly insightful.”

“What do we do?” Potter sighed.

“I was thinking we go find Dumbledore,” Lupin said. The other three nodded in agreement and went to follow Lupin to the door. They all promptly fell on their faces.

“McGonagall spelled our feet to the floor,” Pettigrew explained while the other two swore loudly.

“Where is she?” I asked.

“She had to go get some things from the library.” I poked my head back into the corridor and saw the woman in question strutting quickly towards us.

“Skylar,” she called. “What have those boys done now?”

“Fallen on their faces,” I informed her with a certain amount of satisfaction. Her lips pursed into the same thin line that had made my blood run cold when I was a student here. I was quite glad to have her displeasure directed at someone else. She hurried into the room and with a flick of her wand, all three boys were freed.

“What have you all done now?” she demanded.

“Nothing!” all four protested.

“We have proof!” Sirius added. The formidable woman I had always respected froze and something in her eyes broke. She sagged for just a moment against her desk and I hurried toward her.

“Minerva!” She waved me off and stood straight again. She looked in control, though her hands were fisted, the tip of her wand trembling only the slightest bit.

“Come,” she said quietly. We all followed her to the headmaster’s office.

I finished the year as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The Marauders took to acting as my bodyguards, one of them always hanging around. I was annoyed at first, but over time, I became quite fond of them. Regulus never sat up front in my class again. He never spoke to me or met my eye, but I often felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle and knew he was watching me, looking for something. I quit as soon as the school year ended and Dumbledore accepted my resignation with good grace. He offered me a place in the Order of the Phoenix, an organization under his leadership, fighting against the Death Eaters. I declined. I had no desire to be caught on the front lines of a war.

* * *

 

It was more than a year later when I heard a knock on my door. I thought, at first, that perhaps Lily had come for a visit. She had taken to doing that since her graduation and I had been surprised to find that I enjoyed her company. But when I opened the door of my little apartment, there was no chronically optimistic redhead smiling at me. Instead, I was greeted by a desperate Regulus Black.

Without thinking, I raised my wand and sent a blasting spell at him. Never mind my Muggle neighbors; I refused to accept my own murder. His shield charm was quicker though and the speed with which he threw it up knocked me back into my apartment where I collided with the sofa. He stepped in before I could kick the door shut. “Incarcerus!” I shouted, jabbing my wand at him.

“Diffindo,” he reacted smoothly, slicing the ropes before they could take hold of him. I threw another volley of hexes, any hexes, his way, but his shields were too fast, too practiced, and an annoying voice in the back of my mind cursed myself for having taught those so well. “Petrificus Totalus!” The power of his spell snapped my arms to my sides, my legs together and straightened my spine against my will. The only parts of me that I could still control were my eyes and I filled them with as much rage and loathing as I could. “Expelliarmus,” he muttered and my wand flew from my frozen hand, allowing him to tuck it into his pocket.

I wanted to scream, I wanted to apparate away, I refused to take my death on the living room floor! Maybe that was just going to be his final taunt. He cast a silencing spell over the whole apartment then stepped closer, leaning over me, and I knew this was my end. The little Death Eater had come to kill the mudblood.

He had grown taller in the year since I had seen him, but he had grown thinner as well and as he picked me up, I could feel his ribs and boney wrists through both our clothes. While I couldn’t do anything except blink in indignation, he laid me on the couch lengthwise. He even propped a pillow under my head.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not here to hurt you, I promise. I needed…help,” oh, I bet it burned him to admit that, “and I didn’t know where else to go. Please.” I stared at him, left with no alternative. “I’ll release you,” he promised, “I’ll even give you back your wand, just, please, listen before you hex me.” I gave him a last measured look before blinking, hoping he understood my acceptance of his terms. He either understood or decided to trust me anyways because with a wave of his wand, I felt blood rush through my veins again and air fill my lungs. I sat up slowly, checking myself for any ill effects then turned to face him.

“My wand,” I demanded. He placed it on my upturned palm and took several steps back, obviously trying to appear nonthreatening. “What do you want, Regulus?” My voice was distant and flat the way it should have been all those months ago.

“I needed to talk to someone.” I said nothing and arched an eyebrow for him to continue. “I-I found out some…information and I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I’m not in the mood for a prank, Regulus.”

“It’s not! I promise,” his eyes were wide and hollowed with fear, but not fear of me. I saw the kind of fear that is too big to be fixed to any person, too big even to be caused by an army. It was the fear of something inevitable and soul crushing. “What do you know,” he asked, “about horcruxes?”

My blood ran cold. I knew the word, of course. I had come across the subject in my post-graduation studies and had later tried to hide all evidence of the research, even from myself. For weeks after finding those books, any moment of sleep I found was interrupted with the most disturbing images my mind ever could have concocted. It had taken a month of Dreamless Sleep Potion to rid me of those nightmares. They still crept up every few months. “I can see you know what I’m talking about.”

“What do you want Regulus?” The boy had always had a predisposition for the dark arts, but this was past that, way past. I couldn’t imagine Regulus Black being able to complete the repulsive process necessary to divide his soul. “I won’t help you make a horcrux.” He looked nauseated at the thought.

“No! Not mine! It’s…the Dark Lord. He has horcruxes.”

“Horcruxes? Plural?”

“At least five,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “that I know of.” My stomach churned. I ran to the kitchen sink, barely reaching it in time to vomit up everything I had eaten since that morning. Stomach acid scorched up my throat and left a sour taste in my mouth. Even after my stomach was empty, I braced myself on the counter, head still hung over the sink, my gag reflex still working in overtime and I hung there, retching up nothing. Because I remembered every single step of creating a horcrux. The instructions had seared themselves into my memory, branded themselves onto the tissue of my brain. The thought, even just the theory, that a person could complete the entire ritual was soul-curdling; that a person could repeat it all again and again and again was decimating.

Something nudged my side and my feet moved me out of the way. A cupboard door creaked and water ran. “Here.” A glass of water was held in front of me, but I knew that if I let go of the counter with even one of my hands, I would crumple to the ground. “Drink,” the same voice insisted and the glass was pressed against my lips and tipped back gently. Most of the water dribbled down my chin, but enough of it tumbled over my tongue and down my throat that my mind cleared and my stomach settled. An arm wrapped around me, taking most of my weight and I was guided back to the couch. “I’m sorry,” Regulus was saying. “You really do know a bit about them, don’t you?”

“A bit,” I muttered and took another sip of water. “Why did you come to me, Regulus. I’m a mudblood, remember?” I watched his face for a reaction, but he was Black through and through so his expression remained flat and impassive.

“Well,” he sat heavily into the one armchair I owned. “My ‘friends’ all work for him, most of my relatives work for him, my father is dead, my mother is proud of me and anyone else I know would kill me on sight. I’m afraid you were my only option, Professor French.” He smirked slightly, an expression of anticipation, when he said my title.

“I’m not your professor anymore, Regulus,” I said, shooting him my best acidic glare. “You can call me Skylar.” His lips twitched. “What about the Order of the Phoenix then?

They can help, can’t they? I’m sure this is the kind of information that they are dying for.” My face twisted, regretting my word choice.

“We’re back to the ‘killing on sight’ part, I think,” he said and heaved a sigh. “Do you have anything to drink?” I stood on still wobbly legs and stumbled to the kitchen.

“Tea, milk, water. That’s about it, I’m afraid.”

“Anything a bit stronger?” he complained.

“Nope. I’ll make you some tea.” He grumbled for a moment, but watched me silently as I went about making tea the long way.

“Why don’t you use magic?” he asked. “You could heat the water faster, make the flavors richer.”

“This is how I was taught, though. The process relaxes me.” My explanation obviously didn’t fit into his head quite right, but he took his tea without further question and sipped quietly. Leading him back to the living room, I asked, “So, what are you going to do, Regulus? About…them.”

“I’m going to destroy them.” I looked up sharply from my own cup. That one phrase was said with more conviction than I had ever heard from him and it was so opposite everything he had always worked towards. “That’s part of why I’m here. I need to know what you know about destroying a horcrux.”

“What’s the other part?” I asked him, worried. I didn’t like not having the whole truth.

“Well, it will be dangerous, I think,” he gave me a wry and resigned smile. Why were his smiles never just smiles? They always hid something darker. “I probably won’t survive them all, so there should be someone else who knows.” My heart sped as my muscles seized.

“I can’t kill them, Regulus,” I said, my voice coming out between gasps. “Just reading about the damn things nearly tore apart my sanity, I can’t—”

“No, Skylar!” he jumped up from the armchair and sat next to me on the sofa. His skeletal arm wrapped around my shoulders and rocked me back and forth, out of my panic.

“No, I don’t want you to try to kill them! I just want you to pass the word on, if I can’t. Dumbledore and the Order, they trust you. Remember the whole ‘killing on sight’ part?” My hysteria let out a giggle. “They won’t listen to me, but they will listen to you.”

“Sirius wouldn’t kill you,” I told him as my panic wound back down.

“He should.” I opened my mouth to object, but he cut me off. “You don’t know about half the atrocities I’ve done, Skylar. I thought they were all in the name of some greater good, but now I know they were just in the name of a madman. Sirius can never look at me as his brother again.” I thought back to more than a year ago, to the boy who pretended he wasn’t crying for his little brother. There had been an emotion in his eyes that I hadn’t been able to place back then. Now though, when I saw it reflected in his brother’s eyes, I recognized it as loss. The kind you see at a funeral.

I didn’t know what else to say except, “I’m sorry.” There was another small smile; regret and remorse.

“You’re not the idiot who held out his arm and pledged his loyalty.” We sat in silence for a moment, heads bowed, listening to the traffic outside. He spoke first, using that resolved tone again. “So, how do I destroy these things?” I felt pride for this brave Slytherin boy. I didn’t want to know what all he had done as a Death Eater, nor did I want to know what all he would do to keep his cover intact until all the horcruxes were destroyed. If I knew, I would never be able to look at him the same way. But for now, he was doing something right, he was trying to fix all that. I hoped it would be enough to save him from his fate.

“The soul’s receptacle has to be destroyed beyond repair. You’d be shocked how difficult it is to truly destroy a thing.” I told him grimly, thinking back to those books, still corrupting the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library. “Also, it’s likely to be protected with any number of enchantments or traps or…Regulus, it’s nearly impossible just to destroy one horcrux and you’re thinking about killing five of them?”

He ignored my doubt and the sheer impossibility of the undertaking, looking me straight in the eye. “How do I do it?”

* * *

 

Death Eaters always watched one another, looking for the next betrayal and the next chance to get closer to the Dark Lord’s inner circle. Because of the constant scrutiny, we couldn’t meet often or regularly and Regulus always came and went in disguise or under the cover of darkness. Over the next month, though, we researched and made detailed plans for each of the horcruxes he knew of; an old diary, an ancestral ring, a diadem that belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, a cup that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, and a locket that belonged to Salazar Slytherin. We had the most information about the locket’s location because of Regulus’ house elf, Kreacher. After introducing me as his friend, Skylar, telling Kreacher not to insult my home or heritage and not to tell Mrs. Black anything about me, Regulus had Kreacher tell me his story about the cave and the lake and the wretched potion and the inferi. By the end of it, I felt like vomiting again and Regulus had Kreacher make me some tea.

We decided that Regulus would get the locket first. Some of the other horcruxes had been entrusted to Death Eaters--the diary the Lucius Malfoy, the cup to Regulus’s cousin, Bellatrix--though neither of them had any idea what they held. The ring was near a little muggle village in a deceptively run-down shack that was heavily warded with dark magic. The diadem, however, we were lost on. Neither of us had any idea where the Dark Lord would have most likely hid it nor any idea of how to find it. After a long month however, we had at least found everything there was to learn about the locket and its protections.

“I’ll go get the locket next week. My mother will be going on holiday to France and I don’t want her in the same house with it, even for a short time, before I destroy it.”

“Come back after you get it,” I disagreed. “You can leave it here.” Keeping that dark of an object in the home of a family known for their violent past was a bad idea

“No,” Regulus said, with ingrained haughtiness. “My family’s home is warded. The locket will be safe there. How could you expect to protect it in a hovel like this, especially with those muggles all around? The old woman across the hall would gift wrap it for us and give us a plate of biscuits to go with it.” I scowled, realizing that when he said ‘us’, he was identifying with the Death Eaters again.

“Don’t insult my home or my neighbors. They’re nice, not stupid,” I said, avoiding the real problem, and shot a tickling hex at him that left him wriggling on the floor, choking on snorts, as I collected our tea mugs and washed them out in the sink. “That…was…low!” he gasped as the hex wore off. “Colloshoo!”

“Oi!” I yelled as I fell on my face. Regulus had likely used the same spell to stick my feet to the ground as Minerva had used on the Marauders all those months ago. I pulled my feet out of my socks, leaving them stuck to the ground and chased him to where he had ducked behind my couch. Sick of the stress of those horcruxes, we both devolved into adolescents, firing the most inane hexes and jinxes at one another, using furniture and walls as forts and shields, laughing madly the whole time. By the time I conjured a white flag of surrender, I was exhausted, unable to do little more than flop onto the ground. “Stop!” I gasped. “I give up!”

His head poked up from behind the oven door. “Say I win,” he commanded, a victorious grin stretched across his face. I glared at him stubbornly.

“’I win’,” I repeated.

“Nuh-uh,” he sang like he was speaking to a child who had made a mistake. “Say it!” His wand tip became once again visible as he pointed it at me and I threw my hands up in defeat, feathers from when he had turned me into a toucan still stuck to my arms.

“Alright, alright! You win, Black.” He gave a whoop and I slumped, letting my head thunk back onto the floor. Chuckling, he came towards me and sat cross-legged, just out of my reach. I scowled at him from my spot.

“You did very well,” he said, “for a muggleborn,” and I rolled my eyes at his condescension. Mid-eye roll, my gaze landed on piles of parchment spread across the living room floor. Our notes must have fallen off the coffee table in the midst of our battle and we hadn’t noticed. My smile fell away and I dragged myself up, crawling over to gather the vital papers. Regulus stayed where he was, his grin gone too.

“Will it work?” I asked, my voice quiet and strained.

Regulus didn’t answer.

* * *

 

The weekend before Regulus would be going to collect the first horcrux, my family came for a visit. Years ago, they had rejected me when I chose my magic over a muggle life, but since my graduation, we had begun accepting one another again. Saturday night saw me between my dad and my little sister, watching a recent muggle movie about space while my mum fixed us dinner. I was debating with myself about whether the Force was wandless magic or something else entirely when a bright, silver something streaked into the living room. When it stopped in front of me, I recognized it as a Patronus: a slim fox. It opened its mouth and Regulus’ familiar voice came out, choked with panic

“Run! For God’s sake, run! They’re coming for you! I’m so sorry…” The fox disappeared in a wisp of light and we all stared at the spot it had stood. It only took me a moment to react and I shot from the couch, sprinting to where my wand sat on the kitchen counter.

“Skylar, what was that?”

“What’s happening, Skylar?”

“Skylar, are we in danger?”

My family was all talking at once, but I couldn’t respond, I was concentrating, holding my wand to a book and thinking of a safe place where we could blend in if they tried to follow us. My concentration faltered at a crash from downstairs, but my determination redoubled. “Come here!” I shrieked to my family who all stood perplexed.

“Skylar, what’s happen—”

“We don’t have time for explanations!” I yelled. “Come here!” They moved too slow, their steps hesitant. Couldn’t they see that time was not something we had? Were the approaching crashes not enough evidence that they should be running for their lives? “Gather around,” I ordered. “Everyone, put a hand on this. It’ll transport us somewhere safe. Whatever you do, don’t let go!”

“But, Skylar—”

“DO IT!” The loudest crash yet shook the whole apartment and the door crashed open. “Now!” I yelled. My parents, sister and I reached for the book, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw a black-robed, silver-masked person point his wand directly at my sister.

“Oh, look!” another sneered. “We can dispose of the mudblood and her filthy muggle family, all at one time!”

“No!” I pulled my hand away from the portkey and launched myself in front of my sister, throwing up a shield and hoping it was enough.

“Skylar!” My mom’s scream rang through the air as the portkey glowed and all three of them disappeared with a crack that was lost among the explosions destroying my little apartment. My pounding heart broke as they disappeared, but they were on their way somewhere safe and that had to be enough. Four Death Eaters advanced on me, a fifth lingering behind. I was dueling all four of them at once, but I couldn’t keep up. A slicing curse slashed my left shoulder just as an immobilizing spell hit my wand arm and I fell, my head cracking on the floor. Dizzy and with only one half-working arm, I propped myself onto my elbow, shuffling backwards until I was leaning against the sofa. In the midst of the chaos, I was hit with déjà vu as I remembered the first time Regulus had come to my apartment.

One of the four stepped in front of the others and crooked her wand at me, cackling gleefully. “The other animals got away,” she crooned, “but you won’t. Cruci—”

“Wait!” Regulus’ voice rang out, clear through the noise around me. Relief rushed through my chest. Regulus would fix this, just like he was fixing everything with the horcruxes. He would take care of the problem and then everything would go back to the way it should be. “Bellatrix…let me do it.” Cold flooded me and my heart stuttered in my chest. No, no that’s not what was supposed to happen. He had to have a plan, Regulus always had a plan.

“Of course, Reggie,” she murmured sweetly. “After all, you’re the one that found her.” She stepped to the side and allowed the fifth cloaked figure to pass her. He stopped not even a yard away and when he raised his wand, the tip was only a few inches from my forehead.

“No, no Regulus, please,” I begged. My voice was croaking again and I wasn’t even sure he could hear me. But I could see his eyes through the holes in his mask, dark gray and expressionless.

“Avada Kedavra.”

I closed my eyes.

* * *

 

FORMER HOGWARTS PROFESSOR KILLED BY DEATH EATERS—FAMILY SAFE.  
On this past Sunday evening, an apartment complex in east Cricklewood was attacked by five Death Eaters, identities unknown. Their target was Skylar French, a muggleborn who’s family happened to be visiting at the time. French transported her family via portkey to Kings Cross Station where they were later found by Aurors. French stayed behind to fight the aggressors, but was killed in the conflict. In the five years since graduating from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, French has worked as a researcher and consultant with the Auror Department of the Ministry of Magic and as Hogwarts’ Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the 1977-1978 school year. The apartment building was blown up by the departing Death Eaters, killing five muggles and wounding twenty-four others who were treated at St. Mungo’s before their memories of the incident were altered. Muggles are informed that there was a gas leak in the building.

Regulus dropped the Daily Prophet back onto his nightstand. Leaning his head back against the headboard, he closed his eyes, trying to erase her last expression from his memory. He had betrayed her. Skylar had been a good friend to him in the last month. She had supported him despite his sins and hadn’t offered him false assurances. He hadn’t wanted her dead. She hadn’t deserved it. When his cousin visited and asked why he was never home anymore, he hadn’t been able to clear his mind quickly enough. She was far better with Legilimency than he was with Occlumency. She had seen the muggle apartment building where Skylar lived and he had been forced to come up with a story. He told her he was doing reconnaissance on a suspected Order of the Phoenix supporter and when Bellatrix had found out that the girl was muggleborn, she had set out immediately. The only kindness he was able to give the girl was to kill her quickly rather than let his sadistic cousin torture her first. Bellatrix had been quite put out on that point.

Pulling himself to his feet, Regulus slid his wand into his pocket and felt the heavy locket already there. He resisted the urge to pull it out to and, once again, check the note he had folded up inside. Instead, he called into the empty room. “Kreacher!”

The elf appeared with a CRACK, already bowing low. “Master Regulus called Kreacher?”

“Yes. Kreacher, take me to the cave where the Dark Lord took you.” The old elf looked up with terror. “Please, Kreacher. I need your help. You have to make sure I drink the whole potion.” Kreacher knew the effects of that potion, had experienced them himself, and was already shaking his head, his ears flapping. “That’s an order, Kreacher.” Regulus hadn’t used that last line since he was a child and trying to give the elves orders contrary to what his parents had said.

“Yes, Master Regulus,” Kreacher bowed. His voice trembled more than usual.

“Take the Dark Lord’s locket and replace it with this one,” Regulus continued, removing the locket from his pocket and giving it to the elf. “Bring the Dark Lord’s locket home and destroy it, Kreacher. It has to be destroyed.”

“Y-yes, Master Regulus.” Regulus sighed in relief and looked around his bedroom.

“Thank you, Kreacher. Let’s go.”

The old, gnarled elf took his master’s hand and with a crack, they left Number 12 Grimmauld Place for the last time. Only Kreacher returned, carrying an old locket that wouldn’t open.


End file.
